Breathing Again
by asteristar
Summary: A series of OneShots, each relating to One Breath. Set before Scully goes back to work. Varying amounts of MSR and OOCness.
1. The Only One I Trust

Summary: Mulder visits Scully in the hospital, and this time she's alone. Mulder gets a chance to say what he couldn't before.

A/N: I was watching 'One Breath' the other day, and felt highly cheated when we didn't get to see any M/S interaction when it was just then. I figured Mulder probably went to see her between then and her return. Not my first fic, but my first X-Files fic. Reviews (flames or praise) welcomed.

* * *

She is beautiful, even in the neon glow of the various machines monitoring her health. The rest of the lights are dimmed to enable her to rest, and she seems to have taken advantage of her darkened environment. Her eyes are closed, her head tilted towards the door as her chest rises and falls slowly. Her skin still looks too pale to be healthy, but he delights in the fact that it holds any color at all. 

He takes a seat by her bedside, admiring the way her hair glows gold when lit by a heart monitor. She is sitting up slightly, propped up by at least three pillows. Her left hand is curled under her cheek, and he fights the urge to take in his own.

Fragile. She is so fragile. And he's almost broken her with his foolish beliefs that they are invincible. One little Senator friend and nobody can hurt them. Well, they haven't tried to hurt him, but they've hurt her. Badly. And she's come back. She's come back to him. He knows that it's probably some medical marvel, but all he knows is that love has something to do with it. Her mother's love, her sister's love – that's what brought her back to him. And he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if she had known that she'll always have his, she might have come back sooner.

He's brought her something that, while she may never know what it means, will always ease his worry about her. Because wherever she is, she'll have a piece of him to take with her. Not a literal piece – at this point, he'd really rather not cause himself unnecessary pain – but something symbolic. His own version of the cross she wears. He takes bracelet from his pocket and examines it carefully, noting with a satisfied smile the engraving adorning the long, thin, rectangular silver ID plate. _The Only One I Trust_. The guy at the shop had gotten a kick out of that, making some comment about paranoia, which, in retrospect, had not been entirely false. The jewelry had turned out well, though. The bracelet's chain is simple, two threads of silver twining together until it was impossible to tell which was which. Just like the two of them, in his opinion.

He's not sure when he wants to give this to her. He could always do it now, while he has the nerve, but first, he needs to make sure she's real. He reaches out to brush her cheek, and is midway through his reality-affirming gesture when she opens her eyes and smiles at him. He freezes, his fingers inches from brushing her hair back from her cheek.

"Hi, Mulder," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. He grins, trying not to show just how embarrassed he feels. He's been caught.

"Hey, Scully," he replies, and since his fingers are currently getting stiff in their position suspended in midair, he brushes her hair back carefully. "I'm just filling my capacity as your personal hairdresser."

She chuckles as he folds his hands in his lap. "Good to know. I'm glad my hair has been in capable hands during my coma."

An awkward pause ensues, and his grip on the bracelet tightens. The guilt that he's been suppressing can no longer be contained, and he gets up, moving quickly towards the door.

"Mulder!" Her voice roots him in place, and he can hear the regret tingeing it already. She shouldn't be the one regretting things. No, that's his job.

"Sit down, Mulder, please," she pleads, stretching a hand out to him, and he does so. He's powerless to deny her. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I know how difficult this has been for you. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty. God knows you do that easily enough on your own. I didn't think, Mulder, and you have to understand I didn't mean it."

He finally meets her gaze, and sees the pure apology shining in her eyes. He smiles slightly, taking her hand in his reassuringly.

"No harm done, Scully. I've been a little touchy lately." He grins wryly, remembering his outburst upon finding out about her admittance to the hospital. Touchy? That doesn't begin to describe his moods lately.

The silence is no longer awkward between them, and he is content to sit there by her, watching her as she watches him. He is content to know that she breathes. Content to know that she lives. The silence continues, and when her eyes begin to drift closed, he knows that this little visit is drawing to a close.

"I'll let you get your rest, Scully, but I came by to give this to you." Her eyes open, and she regards him with a quiet curiosity. He presses the bracelet into her hand, and sits back in his chair to watch her reaction.

She sits up straighter, holding the bracelet in the light as she traces the engraving with one long dainty finger. He could watch her like this forever. The smile that spreads slowly across her face is genuine and makes his heart leap inside his chest.

"It's beautiful," she says reverently, and turns back to him, her eyes bright with tears that he hopes are happy ones. "But this engraving, Mulder. You can't possibly mean it." The fact that she doesn't know how sincere he is saddening to him, and he feels an uncontrollable urge to show her just how much he means it.

"Of course I mean it, Dana," he tells her, and by using her first name he knows he's caught her attention. "You were the only one who believed, the only one who saw past the spookiness of it all. And without you…"

He trails off, voice breaking, as he buries his head in his hands. He feels one of her hands come to rest on his head, stroking his hair back from his forehead in a soothing, repetitive gesture. "God, Scully," he whispers. "I missed you. You needed me and I wasn't there."

She lifts his head with a finger beneath his chin and smiles, her lower lip trembling as she holds back tears. "Mulder, that's not true. There was nothing anyone could have done. And it all worked out fine, anyway."

She's looking at him and the tears he's been holding back successfully for all three months of her departure are welling up inside of him. He cries, feeling vindicated and full of abandonment. She reaches for him, pulling him closer to her, and he wraps her arms around her waist as he rests his head on her lap. Her fingers twist into his hair, and he can hear her whispering blurred and blended words of comfort, and suddenly, nothing else matters but telling her. He has to tell her.

"I love you so much, Dana," he sobs out. "So. Damn. Much. Don't you ever leave me again."

He feels her lips press once against his hairline and then her words are ringing softly in his ears.

"I love you, Mulder. And I'll always be here."

Yes, she will. It's the two of them, now. He holds on to her even more tightly, and he never plans on letting her go. Ever.

**fin**


	2. Giving Thanks

A/N: A lot of people were disappointed that "One Breath" ended the way it did. I already wrote one continuation of it, but I had this other idea. So I'm doing a kind of series thing. We'll see how it turns out.

* * *

He pauses outside her door, unsure of whether to proceed into her room. He can see her as she sits cross-legged on her bed, hair falling around her face in burnished, coppery waves. She is reading something – not the medical journal he would have expected, but what looks like Shakespeare. He squints, and makes out the title. _Much Ado About Nothing_. He never had her pegged as a Shakespeare fan.

She glances up from her page, brushing her hair back from her face in a practiced gesture. She sees him, and he smiles sheepishly as he steps inside.

"Hey," she says, smiling brightly.

"Hey," he replies, shifting from one foot to the other.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he mutters, and she tilts her head, a little puzzled.

"I'm okay," she tells him, and he nods. There is a pause. "I was wondering if you'd come back. You didn't stay long this morning," she says.

"I would have stayed, but your family was here, and I didn't want to interrupt."

"You wouldn't have interrupted," she tells him kindly, and he smiles slightly.

"Okay. Well, I'm just gonna go," he mumbles, and starts to leave, but she calls him back.

"Mulder." He stops. "C'mere."

He walks toward her and stops a few inches away from her bedside. She laughs and shakes her head.

"Mulder, come _here_," she insists, and pats the bed. He sits down next to her and reaches over, taking her right hand in his left carefully. "So, you want to tell me what's been going on? How'd it go with the X-Files while I was gone?"

"Fine," he responds noncommittally, and she sighs.

"Come on, Mulder. It must have been nice not having someone around to second-guess you all the time," she teases, and a flash of anger crosses his face.

"Not at all, Scully." He pauses, considering telling her what he's thinking, and decides that she deserves to know.

"I missed you, you know," he informs her, and her smile is a quiet one, one that lights her face with a brilliant joy.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he confirms, grinning. "But don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay," she replies.

There is a break in the conversation, during which he contemplates telling her what he has come here to tell, what has been troubling him since her return.

"You know, Scully," he starts, "there was something that I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?"

He takes a deep breath, gathering courage. "I think you should leave the X-Files."

Her expression is one of astonishment, and she can only say one thing. "What?!" she responds, incredulously.

"Look at you, Scully," he explains, though it kills him to do so. "You've been missing for months. You were in a coma for days. These things aren't supposed to happen to you. You're not supposed to be here, getting hurt. You're supposed to be out helping people. You're supposed to be a doctor!"

She does not speak for a moment, simply looks at him with a gaze that is clear and perceptive. Finally, she responds to his explanation.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"I don't want you to get hurt," he replies evasively, and she sighs.

"But do you want me to leave?" she asks again.

"I don't want to hurt you."

She makes a frustrated noise and turns away from him, taking her hand from his, but he will not let her withdraw.

"No, okay?" he tells her quickly, reclaiming her hand with his own. "I don't want you to leave. I think you should, but I don't want you to."

"Then I'm not leaving," she says decisively.

"Scully!"

"Mulder!"

"Dana!"

"Fox," she says warningly, and he sighs.

"All right, all right.," he concedes, and she smiles, leaning her head on his shoulder, and he turns his head slightly, allowing her to make herself comfortable.

"You know what, Mulder?" she asks.

"What?"

"I missed you, too," she tells him quietly. He laughs softly.

"I promise I won't tell anyone," he replies, standing, and she chuckles. "Hey, you should get some rest, so you can come back to work soon."

"I'm not tired, Mulder. I was just in a coma for a week. That's pretty much a week of sleep."

"Just rest, please?" he asks plaintively, and she sighs good-naturedly.

"Fine."

"I'll come visit you tomorrow," he promises. "I've got a meeting with Skinner all morning, but I'll drop by in the afternoon."

"All right. Bring me lunch, would you? The hospital food looks like someone already ate it," she says, and he smiles.

"No, Scully. All the doctors say that you should stick to the food given to you."

"I'm a doctor, Mulder. And I am not eating that food. Ever."

She is adamant, and he can see that he is not going to win.

"Okay," he acquiesces. "Soup? Salad?"

"Salad," she decides. He smiles – her decision is excatly what he expected. But he cannot bring himself to leave. Because what if she vanishes the moment he steps out the door?

She sees some of his conflict reflected in his expression, and smiles, finding this endearing.

"I'll still be here tomorrow, Mulder. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," he says defensively. "I'm just gonna sit for a little while – you know, make sure everything is safe."

"It's a hospital. It's safe."

He sighs and rolls his eyes. How logical. So very like her.

"Just humor me, Scully. Close your eyes. I'll leave once you're asleep."

"All right," she says warily, "I'll humor you. But don't stare at me or anything. Then I won't be able to sleep."

"No staring, I promise," he replies.

He takes a seat in the chair placed by the door to the room, and she settles back into the bed, lieing down with her face turned towards the door.

"Goodnight, Mulder," she says.

"Goodnight, Scully," he replies.

Gradually, her breathing slows, and she falls asleep. He gets up quietly and crosses the room to stand at her bedside, smiling fondly. He reaches out and brushes a piece of hair back from her cheek, fascinated the breath coming evenly from between her lips. He bends down, brushing a kiss across her forehead, and straightens.

"Thank you for coming back to me," he whispers, and she stirs slightly.

He takes a few steps away from her and then turns, leaving the room without a glance backwards.

She will not vanish.

She will be here tomorrow.


	3. Confessional

A/N: Here's my third idea. It's a bit longer than either of the previous two - more developed, and a teensy weensy bit AU. Scully POV. Writing these makes me miss the nice, light Happy!Scully of Seasons 1 and 2.

Spoilers: MAJOR "3", the whole abduction arc (which you probably should've seen if you're a fan of the show... so I'm not sure how much of a spoiler it actually is...

* * *

He never came back to see me.

I'll admit, I wasn't surprised. The first and only time he visited, he picked the same day as basically my whole family, which was probably a bit intimidating. My sister can be kind of scary, and he hasn't even met my older brother yet. So, he pretty much threw that bag at me and ran.

And now, it's been two weeks and I still haven't seen him. I will never ever admit it out loud, but I miss him. A lot. Being abducted will do that to you.

I called him this morning. Told him that I was being discharged this afternoon, and that if he weren't at my apartment with Chinese food by 8:30, I would kick his sorry ass. Then I hung up. He didn't get a word in edgewise.

So here I am, sitting on my couch staring at a blank television, waiting for him to arrive. Waiting for him to knock, to be precise. Because he's out there in the hallway. Has been for about five or so minutes. I can hear his footsteps going back and forth in front of the door.

Yeah, that's right. Mulder is pacing. And talking to himself, too. Rather loudly, I might add. It sounds like he's working up the courage to knock on the door. I've been listening to him for a while now.

It's not eavesdropping, I swear. He's right outside my door. It's not like I have a choice here. I would go outside and tell him to quiet down, but then he would know that I know he's here, and that would totally humiliate him and then it would be awkward and… you get the picture.

Instead, I get to sit here and wait for him. It's boring. I mean, really boring. I mean, beat-me-over-the-head-shoot-me-in-the-stomach boring. Okay, so maybe I'm being a little melodramatic. So what? I'm allowed to be after losing three months of my life. I mean, that's pretty melodramatic in itself, right?

It's just that I really wish he would stop pacing and get in here. I want him with me. I want to know that he's the same. I want to know that we're the same. No, I need to know. Because if we're not the same… if he's not the same… then nothing is.

At the sound of Mulder's knock, I shake myself out of the introspective mood I've fallen into. I get up and slowly make my way to the door. It's weird, I know, but I'm nervous.

Mulder knocks again and I realize that I've been standing in front of the door not moving for quite a few moments. I quickly swing the door open and smile when Mulder pokes his head around the big paper bag he's carrying.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mulder," I say as I usher him in, and he grimaces slightly.

"That's okay. I wasn't here that long," he mumbles, and I almost laugh. Almost. He then steps around me and enters the apartment.

"Make yourself at home," I reply.

He starts to take off his coat while still holding the bag of food, and I can see a disaster in the making, so I move towards him and start take the bag from him, so that it doesn't end up on the floor.

To my complete surprise, he steps away from my outstretched hand and moves past me. He places the bag on the counter, shrugs out of his jacket, and tosses it past me onto the couch in the living room, all the while completely avoiding both my eyes and any physical contact.

I stand there, somewhat shocked.

I've been ditched. In my own home.

What the hell is going on?

I approach him slowly. He's removing containers from the bag and arranging them on the counter in a very slow, methodical manner. It looks like he's arranging them by food group.

"Mulder?" I ask quietly, and he tilts his head slightly in my direction. But he's still not looking at me. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course, Scully," he says dismissively. "You want some spicy beef or can I eat most of it?"

"Um… no, I'll pass on the beef."

He finishes loading up two plates and heads in to the living room, setting the plates on the coffee table and sitting down on the couch. And I am once again left completely stunned.

I'm not sure why I'm so affected by this. I mean, he's just my partner. I shouldn't expect him to be all friendly. Hell, I shouldn't have asked him to come over tonight. If anything, this detached coolness is what I should've expected

I walk over to the couch and sit down, careful not to sit too close. I'm afraid that if I do, he will move away from me and build a barrier of pillows between us. And that would pretty much suck.

We are both totally silent, staring straight ahead. Most of the time, our silences are comfortable. This time it's really not.

I try to bridge the gap by offering him an egg roll, but he simply looks in the other direction. And as I slowly lower the egg roll back to my plate, I can feel tears start to sting the back of my eyelids. Damn him. Damn him for being so far away that I can't reach him.

About ten minutes pass, and I still haven't finished my food. Mulder gave me enough food to feed an entire third world country, and I haven't totally regained my appetite yet. I start pushing my food around my plate with my fork, and I see him frown out of the corner of my eye.

"Scully, would you quit being fussy and eat already?" he snaps angrily, and something inside me breaks.

"Okay, Mulder, that's it," I retort, all but slamming my plate down on the table. "You've been a jerk all night, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it. What's your problem?"

He sighs and stands up, walking briskly towards the door. "Nothing, okay? I'll see you when you get back from your leave," he says in clipped tones. I stand up, grab his jacket from the couch, and hurl it at him. I am delighted when it hits him in the face.

"Fine. Go off and sulk by yourself. Be the selfish bastard you usually are. After all, who the hell else matters except you?"

He whirls around, storms gathering in his eyes. Ooooh, I've pissed him off.

"Selfish bastard, Scully? Is that what you think of me?"

"Yes, it is," I fire back. "You make everything about you. Even when I've just gotten home from the hospital after losing three months, it's all about you. You don't care that maybe I really needed this. Maybe I really needed to know that my life could be the same as it was, that you were still the same person-"

"I'm not!" he shouts, his eyes full of a strange mix of rage and guilt. There is a moment of strained silence, and then Mulder sighs brokenly. "I'm not him, Scully. I wish I could be. But I'm not anymore."

"Why not? What's so different now?"

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. He clears his throat and leans back against the doorframe.

"I slept with someone, Scully." He pauses, and then blurts out a name. "Kristin."

So not what I was expecting.

"Uh… okay," I reply, totally nonplussed. I wait for him to keep going, to tell me what the real reason is, but it appears he's finished. "Wait, was that it?"

"Yes, it was. Look, Scully, it was the wrong thing to do, and I'm sorry, okay? It was stupid and it meant nothing. I'm really sorry."

"Why?" I ask.

He frowns, puzzled. "Why did I sleep with her?"

"No, not that. Why are you sorry?"

"You were gone, okay? You were _gone_. I should've been looking for you, and instead I sleep with a suspect." My shock must show on my face, because he laughs bitterly. "I know, right? Of all the people, I had to sleep with her."

"Mulder-"

"Don't, Scully. Just don't. I failed you." He turns away from me and heads towards the door. "I'll see you when your leave is up."

He is gone before I can say anything.

I spend the rest of the evening in a daze. I read _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ about three times, but I end up staring at the same page while Mulder's words echo in my head. He thinks he's failed me. That is so far off, I can't even begin to comprehend it.

After a few hours of this, the only thing left to do is sleep. And so I do. But not well.

A ray of sunlight slants through the blinds and prods me slowly awake, and I slowly drag myself out of bed. I pull my robe on over my pajamas and head into the kitchen, where I start brewing some coffee. Today marks the first day that I am allowed to drink anything with caffeine.

While I wait for the coffee to brew, I head towards the door to get the newspaper. As I open the door, however, I trip over something long and dark and I am sent flying across the hallway.

I hear a startled cry, and before I know it, I am being lifted from the floor and my head is being checked for trauma. And then I realize that the long, dark something I tripped over was Mulder's leg.

"Oh my God, Scully. Are you okay? I'm so sorry! I had no idea you were coming out, and I fell asleep. How are you?"

Mulder is freaking out, which amuses me a little bit. I am cradled in his arms with a newspaper clutched in my hand, and we are both sprawled across the floor of my hallway. Mulder is wearing his panic-face, big time.

"I'm fine, I swear," I assure him, but he shakes his head.

"We should get you to a doctor," he says as he stands up, carrying me with him so that he's holding me about two feet above the floor.

"I tripped, Mulder. I didn't fall off the Empire State Building."

"That would be hard to manage, since we are in Washington. Seriously, you got out of a coma two weeks ago, Scully, and that's gotta count for something, right?"

"May I remind you that I am a doctor, Mulder? I'm okay," I reply with a laugh in my voice, and I push at his chest. "Now put me down."

He does so, and follows me as I head back into my apartment. We go into the kitchen and I drop the newspaper on the table as Mulder pours two cups of coffee. We sit across from each other at the table and Mulder pushes a mug towards me. It sits there, alone in the middle of the table, and I stare at it warily.

I look up to find him watching me carefully. I reach out and take the mug, accepting his peace offering. We sip at our coffee silently, until I breach the silence tentatively.

"Could I ask what you were doing outside my door?"

Mulder grins sheepishly and laughs a little. "I left my car keys on the counter." I look over my shoulder and see the glint of silver next to the microwave.

"So you did. Wait, did you spend the whole night in the hall?"

"Uh… will you laugh at me if I say yes?"

I laugh. "You should've knocked, Mulder. You could've taken the couch."

"That's okay. The floor tiles of your hallway really are quite comfortable. I just figured I'd get the keys later this morning." An awkward pause ensues. "Listen, I'm sorry, Scully. I was an ass last night and you were completely right to call me on it."

"Mulder, it's okay."

"No, it's not, all right? You were abducted, Scully, and I was unbelievably insensitive to that fact. I need you to accept my apology."

I wave my hand in a dismissive gesture. "Of course, Mulder." I take a sip of my coffee while I mull over how I'm going to word my next question.

"May I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replies, taking a sip of his coffee.

"You said that you weren't the same person. Why did sleeping with Kristin change you?"

Mulder clears his throat and frowns a bit. "You really wanna know, Scully?" I nod, and he sighs. "Okay. This will sound really weird."

"A lot of what you say falls under that category."

He makes a face at me, and continues hesitantly, avoiding my eyes. "Look, Scully. I've read that we're defined by the relationships we have with people. And it's gotten to the point where the only relationship I have is mine with you. That's been the only good, stable thing in my life since we met."

This must be hard for him. He's not an express-yourself kind of guy, most of the time. He gets up from the table and moves to the counter, bracing himself on the edge of it.

"It is the one thing I don't want to ruin, the one thing I cannot let go of. God, Scully, you seriously are an angel…everything about you is so… pure. And I hate that I might've… tainted you. Tainted us." He turns to look at me, his face tortured. "I've… I've never cheated on anybody, Scully, but after her… after Kristin, I feel like I have. "

"But how can you cheat? You're not with anybody," I start, but I trail off as I realize that I really don't know. "Are you?"

"No, I'm not," he says. "That's the thing. I'm not."

There is a moment of tense silence as we both process the meaning of that statement. I take a deep breath and feel it catch in my chest.

"That's it, Scully. That's why I'm not the same. I failed you," he says, his eyes toughening and his jaw tightening. "And I'm worried that the good thing we had has changed, because I let you down. I let you go when I should've held on."

"No, you didn't," I tell him in a wavering voice as a tear streaks down my cheek.

"Yes, I did."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!

"God, Mulder, I am not having this argument with you!" Mulder smiles, and his eyes soften. "Sit down and listen to me." He does so, leaning forward in the chair as our eyes meet. "You brought me back. You were there when nobody else was. You always are. I owe you everything, Mulder, because you always save me. And I wish that, just once, I could return the favor."

Mulder reaches out and takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. We are silent for a little while, me staring at my coffee while Mulder watches me. I can feel his gaze tracing the lines of my face, but I'm not uncomfortable.

"Oh, Scully," he almost whispers as he lifts my hand to his lips. "You saved me a long, long time ago. Don't you get it?" And as I look in his eyes and see a warmth glowing there, I think maybe I do.

We sit there for a while longer, still holding hands. Eventually we move to the couch, where Mulder makes me watch the movie he gave me. And finally, as the sky begins to darken, I stand in my doorway with Mulder as we say our goodbyes.

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, lingering there a little longer than necessary. As he pulls back, we exchange smiles.

"Tomorrow?" I ask, and he nods.

"Tomorrow."

He steps out of the apartment and walks down the hall to the elevator. Normally, I would just shut the door and look away, but I stand in the doorway and laugh softly as he waves at me before the elevator doors close.

Whatever happens now in this world, I know that I will always have by my side a man who sees me as an angel, a man who saves me simply by living. A man who will love me in silence until I allow him to speak.


	4. Falling from Swings

A/N: Because I had just taken a Music Theory exam when I wrote this, this particular piece follows the idea of resolving an E-flat major seventh chord (the most beautiful sound in the world). Oh, and I kind of guessed on the location of Mrs. Scully's house. I couldn't find any specifics, so don't kill me if it's wrong. Plus, there's a tribute to one of my favorite stories by Char Chaffin… see if you can catch it.

Spoilers: Come on. You seriously haven't figured out what this has spoilers for yet?

* * *

Panic, once again. He is sick of feeling this way. It's been a mere three weeks since this pain was eased, and now it is back with a vengeance. Because she's gone. Again. And he has no idea where she is. Again. 

He stands in the middle of her apartment, not daring to move. There are no signs of struggle – that's one thing he can cross of the list. But he still has no idea where she is, and so he stares at the apartment around him as if it will tell him the answers.

Maybe it will. The answers are there, right? He just has to know where to look. He smiles a little bit at that thought, and slowly turns on the spot, scanning the room for clues.

And then he remembers that Scully is house-sitting this week. She's at her mother's. So he leaves the apartment, careful to shut and lock the door behind him, and a few minutes later, he's on his way to Mrs. Scully's house, thirty minutes outside the city.

----------------------

She missed this.

Sitting on the porch swing of her mother's house, knees hugged to her chest, looking up at the sunset-tinted leaves, she feels happy. Like she's a normal person, just sitting outside on a fall weekend, enjoying the fiery foliage. This is the kind of fall she likes. She was never a California girl, even though she grew up there.

She hears a car approach, and as she looks up, Mulder's car can be seen cruising down the street. She smiles to herself and wraps her hands more tightly around her mug of hot chocolate.

The car comes to a halt in the driveway, and she watches as he opens the door and steps out, a somewhat relieved expression on his face. The dull thud of the door closing echoes in the still suburban air.

Mulder climbs the stairs onto the porch and crosses slowly to stand in front of her. She settles deeper into the corner of the swing.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey yourself."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Sitting. Join me?"

He nods and takes a seat a few inches away from her. Wordlessly, she offers him her mug, but he shrugs and shakes his head.

"Suit yourself," she says with a slight laugh, and takes a sip. He considers her appraisingly for a few moments, and then pulls the red blanket off the back of the swing. With a deliberate tenderness, he drapes the blanket over her knees and tucks it in around her shoulders.

"You must be freezing, Scully," he chides kindly, and she grins up at him, shifting closer to his bulk and the heat he's giving off.

"Not anymore. Thanks, Mulder," she replies with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

They sit in a comfortable silence for what feels like forever, and she can feel herself drifting off. And soon she's gone, head leaning on her partner's shoulder.

---------------------

He looks down at her and smiles to see that she's asleep. Hopefully this time it will be nightmare-free. She'd never tell him, but he knows that ghosts of her abduction have haunted her dreams. Those same ghosts haunt him, and he wasn't even the one abducted.

He wonders whether she'd be more comfortable inside. Sleeping all curled up like that will surely cause sore muscles when she wakes, but he hates to disturb her. She feels good, pressed up against his side with her head leaning on his shoulder. She feels real.

Slowly, he removes the half-empty mug from her limp fingers and sets it on the porch beside the swing. Then he lifts her gently, freezing for a second as she shifts a bit in her sleep.

The door is difficult to open with his arms full of Scully, but he manages, and soon places her on the couch. After taking a second to tuck the blanket in around her, he heads off to the kitchen.

Damn, he's hungry.

----------------------

She wakes to the smell of fresh bread.

For a second, she thinks her mom has come back early, but then she remembers that Mulder is here. And that makes her worried. Mulder is baking? Oh, dear God.

She comes rushing into the kitchen and is surprised to see that nothing is on fire. Nothing is even out of place. The only thing out of the ordinary is the loaf of fresh bread sitting in a basket on the kitchen table. She approaches it warily, fearing it will explode.

"Boo!"

She shrieks in surprise and her heart leaps in her chest. It's Mulder, she thinks to herself. Just Mulder. After calming down, she turns to see him leaning against the doorjamb, laughing at her reaction.

"Mulder!" She grabs a dishtowel from the rack and whaps him with it. "You scared me!"

"No kidding, Scully."

She can't help but laugh, and replaces the dishtowel. "Come on," she says, brushing past him. "We're going for a walk while your bread cools."

----------------------

He wonders where she could be taking him as she leads him along the perfectly paved streets. They do not speak, but walk close to each other, shoulders brushing with each step. The neighborhood seems deserted, the roads empty of cars. The sun is sinking low in the sky and casting a red-yellow wash over everything. Looking over at Scully, he is amazed by the halo of gold around her.

She seems different, he muses. She was pale in the hospital, but now she has a kind of glow. He smiles to himself at the way she is dressed, with her faded jeans and corduroy jacket. A striped scarf is wrapped loosely around her neck, and she looks about five years younger today than he can ever remember her looking.

When he sees their destination around the corner, he is surprised. This is not what he expected of Scully, though he's not really sure what he was expecting. They come to a halt at the edge of the playground she's led them to, stopping where the pavement ends.

They exchange glances, and she takes him by the hand, leading him past the monkey-bars – a childhood favorite of his, he remembers fondly – and towards the swings, set on the opposite edge of the playground.

She takes a seat on one of the swings and he stands in front of her, kicking at the woodchips beneath his feet as she sways slowly back and forth. Then, with an impish grin on her face, she asks him to push her. And so he does.

He stands behind her and watches as she soars away from him, only to come flying back again. His job is pretty much done, now. She has enough momentum to go by herself. But he's reluctant to let her do this alone. She should never have to do anything alone.

As the sun dips below the horizon, Scully's momentum finally becomes zero, and she sits on the still swing, feet just barely touching the ground. He stands close behind her, his hands covering hers as they grasp the chains.

"I used to come here when I was a kid," she says softly, and he has to lean forward to hear her. "After Mom and Dad went to sleep, I would go downstairs and sneak out the kitchen window. Never the door, though. I'm not sure why."

He can imagine a ten-year-old Scully, pleased with an act of rebellion made all the more defiant by using the window, rather than the door. He smiles to himself.

"When I was in the trunk of that car," she continues, "for some reason I kept thinking about this playground. These swings. And all of a sudden it was like I was here."

"Like a dream?

She pauses, biting her bottom lip as she thinks. "No, not really. I just closed my eyes and I was here. I would say it was my imagination, but I had no control over the situation. It was as if I'd just… I don't know."

"Go on," he tells her encouragingly, and she sighs, leaning back a little against his chest.

"You were here. I wanted to swing, but I was scared of going too high, I was scared that I was going to fall. But you kept telling me that it was okay, that you'd catch me."

He is afraid to speak for a few seconds, but his curiosity rules him. "Did you swing?"

She stands up and turns to face him, placing her hands on top of his. The last ray of sunlight glances off her hair, and then they are alone in blue darkness.

"Yeah, I did."

Leaning in. They're too close now. Not close enough. He can see her breath materializing in the air, a ghostly reminder that she lives.

"And did you fall?"

She smiles a crooked smile and steps nearer. She shakes her head and a stray lock of her hair grazes his cheek.

"No," she replies. She is a whisper away. "But I knew it would be okay if I did."

And she is kissing him, and he feels sixteen again, their hands intertwined and their lips barely, scarcely touching.

As they walk back to the house, they talk in low voices, their words drifting up to the blank sky. The first star appears, but he does not wish for the first time since he was twelve.

----------------------

He says goodbye at the door with a wink and a smile, and she stands in the doorway to watch him drive away.

For dinner she has a slice of Mulder's bread along with her take-out Chinese food. As she sleeps, she dreams of flying and playgrounds and stars and other things, and they fit together, pieces of a strange puzzle. And she steps back to see the finished picture and laughs when she sees Mulder smiling back at her.

When she wakes, she knows she has fallen.

_**el fin**_


End file.
